


Corroborating Evidence

by murkya



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Idolverse With Vampires, M/M, Metaphor For Being Queer With Additional D/S Undertones, Vamp4Vamp Realness, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murkya/pseuds/murkya
Summary: Lee Juyeon: long time admirer, first time vampire.Ji Changmin: a personality not governed by bloodlust, as such, but it's a strong influence.Choi Chanhee: aren't we all very lucky that someone here knows what they're doing.
Relationships: Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q/Lee Juyeon, Choi Chanhee | New/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	Corroborating Evidence

**Author's Note:**

> I have refrained from detailed, spoiler-y warnings since I presume most people know what to expect when coming into a fic about vampires. That said, if there is anything you think that should be tagged, let me know. 
> 
> Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu handholder extraordinaire S ([hyungcomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyungcomplex)) for getting me over the finish line, and also to the multiple people with whom I have discussed worldbuilding, the nature of The Mysterious Creature That We Know Of As The Vampyre, etc, as well as the multiple people whose deobischolarship I have drawn upon in this.
> 
> I highly recommend reading the footnotes as you go; hopefully I have made this an easy enough task.

***

Juyeon’s fangs come through when they’re in New York. 

He wakes up hungry and thirsty and something more, parched deep and made groggy with it, stumbling into the ensuite and guzzling straight from the bathroom tap, gasping. Then he straightens up and stares in the mirror, gone still and breathless at the new simple white of his pointed canines. His fangs are clean and lurid against the red wet of his mouth. There’s water dripping down his neck. 

Haknyeon is still asleep in the adjoining bedroom. Juyeon remembers to breathe again, deep and slow, feeling out the edges of this, making room around the want that’s burst into life inside of him. He watches his fangs slowly, slowly recede, and then he fumbles around in his mouth, fingers slippery with spit and made hot by his gums. Everything is there and where it should be, plus these new, more lethal teeth of his, laying in wait. 

This wasn't something Juyeon had expected, not really, despite how often he’d considered it obliquely, an odd angle where he wouldn’t have to think too hard about why it interested him. He knows that being a vampire isn’t easy, in the way of someone with enough distance to think that there’s beauty to be found in that difficulty. Most of his favourite artists are vampires. He likes paintings that are about being wanted like that— about being wanted _by_ that. 

There was just something about vampires that seemed very romantic to him, back before. Now it is his. 

A smooth unmarred swathe of life lies behind him, without interruptions of trauma or complication. His parents love him very much. His life is thick with happiness, and he dwells in it with pride and a tender gratitude, and it’s not that he wants things to be worse. But— he always wanted to know what it would be like to love something enough that he would undergo all sorts of suffering just to keep it. This longing, then, is at least the suffering part covered, although he is not yet sure what it’s helping him hold onto. Dancing would’ve made sense for Juyeon to think of as something precious in this way but the concept of losing it is too inconceivable to even register as a threat. He will come to learn that lesson second-hand, watching Hyunjoon slide away from them all. 

In New York Juyeon doesn't even have to figure out how to get a hold of blood. He isn't that thirsty yet, and he knows that he’ll make it home without it being a true problem. He didn’t have this need before, but now he does, and even here at the start he believes he knows it completely. He knows the edge of its limits and what it will allow of him. This makes sense to him, because your body is your body, your home and tool, your surface of contact with the world. It isn't an empty vessel for him to pilot; it's him, physical and in motion.

Juyeon has understood his body-self to a fine degree for years now, and this new want is like a long hamstring stretch or the careful balance of a handstand. He will know when he is at the edge of tearing something vital or falling somewhere deep before such tragedy occurs, and he is oddly, wholly trusting of his own judgement on this. 

So Juyeon flies home with his fangs still virgin, exhausted and craving. He is happy. 

***

It is not particularly hard to hide being a vampire largely because it isn’t something Juyeon even has to hide, at least around the dorms. It feels like half the group is a vampire too, although he isn’t exactly sure of who, since he has never minded and he isn’t one to pry. He diligently starts ordering his own blood delivery when he’s hungry: he gets that hollowed out, dried up feeling, not testing his limits so much as visiting them, becoming familiar. This sort of discomfort is in fact easier than the feed, the glut, the brutal impact of iron and satiation. Juyeon is fairly accustomed to working fatigued and underfed but he has less experience with pure satisfaction and simple bloodrush. The closest he can think of is when an audience is yelling for them, yelling for him, the slick hiss of joy that comes from being on stage. But that is about performing, about giving — not about taking. 

The first couple of times Juyeon feeds he makes a ritual of it, locking himself in the bathroom with careful preparation, a curated playlist and scented candles. He knocks his speaker off the counter or sets fire to his hair or almost strangles himself with his towel, somehow. He can never quite muster the dignity he imagined. 

So he lets go of his idea of proper ceremony, at least for a little while. Juyeon is almost certain that Changmin feeds before practice, so Juyeon starts doing that and it’s a whole lot better, or he goes for long walks in the middle of the night and spooks Eric when he comes back at 3am and Eric’s playing Xbox. It’s still warm enough to be out in t-shirts, cool breeze off the river and the wide open arc of the dark sky taking some of the fever off. 

Some of the others notice, obviously. Juyeon and Changmin end up waiting on the curb outside the offices at the same time, due for a session with the main dance coach soon. Juyeon’s delivery arrives first and there’s no point in hiding it: everyone knows what the unmarked scooter guys are delivering anyway[1]. So he just waits with Changmin, the bottles in his bag clinking together, and when Changmin’s delivery arrives Juyeon looks at the discreet little logo on the bag and says, “Oh. I’ve never tried that place. Is it good?”

Changmin shrugs. “It’s okay. They do discounts during the week.” 

Juyeon and Changmin talk about it sometimes from then on, sharing discount codes and letting each other know if the new batches at Changmin’s favourite place are good enough to run on for a while. He warns Juyeon about the cheap café that might be doctoring their supply [2], which makes Juyeon feel stupid since he’s already halfway through a bottle from them and hadn’t even realised that tampering is a thing he should be watching out for. Chanhee overhears and comes into the kitchen, so he gets a mini-lecture from either side of him as he stands in front of the sink and pours out the dodgy blood, which is pretty frustrating and a little bit touching, also. It’s nice to know they care enough to explain these things to him. 

Quite a lot of idols are vampires. Staff too. Juyeon wasn’t aware of this when he was scouted and became a trainee and he stayed oblivious to it longer than most. But even he eventually had to take note of insider jokes, the implications of gossip that he overheard or had told to him personally, or even the speculation drifting past online: does anyone know who’s biting who? I saw them make eye-contact last year at MAMA, you know. I think she winked. That kind of stuff. Juyeon is never one to be too caught up in what fans say about them behind their backs, but his high school friends think it’s funny to send him screenshots, and Eric’s always namesearching himself anyway and telling Juyeon other people’s business. Juyeon couldn’t stay ignorant of these things. 

Sometimes the preternatural glow is just being well-fed rather than the specific expensive skincare regimen a group is sponsored by; variety show hosts love to make digs about big teeth; while the stories of vampires being unable to see themselves in mirrors aren’t true, there’ll still sometimes be that shimmer, the flex, the shine around the edges that helps them photograph so spectacularly. Juyeon was well aware of this before he turned, having learnt to spot it on models he particularly admired. Maybe it was just added during touch-ups by the photographer, but usually Juyeon could tell — with a little stomach hitch of envy or competitiveness or something else — when it was the real thing. 

Juyeon overheard groups standing in corridors whining about how their main dancer had an unfair advantage for looking good in all the red silk and leather harness styling, and then also saw idols glowering their way through cutesy concepts, pale and prickly looking. Most of this he slotted away easily without particularly paying attention to, except for when it could be relevant for doing his own job well: he’d already learnt that vampire concepts were relatively popular, although The Boyz hadn’t done one yet. 

Early on in their second comeback a stylist talked him through it. Juyeon caught him rolling his eyes at whoever was performing at the time, and then he said something over Juyeon’s head to the makeup artist, and Juyeon said, “What?”

He tried to tell Juyeon it was nothing, and Juyeon said, “Really, you can explain it, what’s wrong?” with basically the same direct earnestness he continues to have for any interaction, even now. 

One of the older girl groups was performing[3], playing up on the tv mounted high on the wall. The stylist looked at Juyeon for a moment, then went back to steam-ironing Juyeon’s blazer. Suddenly he made another noise of frustration and gestured a little wildly towards the TV, steam iron still _whoosh_ ing heat; Juyeon had to jerk his head to the side to avoid getting scalded. The stylist didn’t notice, too busy saying, “It’s just— crass. Too obvious. It’s not traditional and it’s not inventive, either, just piling on the trends,” and then with a look of disgust Juyeon wasn’t sure was warranted considering they seemed like very nice ladies who sang and danced very well, “there’s so much torn lace and bruise makeup. It’s not 2014 anymore.”

Juyeon peered at the TV out of the corner of his eye as the make-up artist fixed his eyeshadow, trying to see what the stylist could see. He supposed that the ribbons and chokers and quite a lot of cleavage was suggestive, and not just — not just in the normal way, either, but of darker things too. The choreography had a moment where the rapper held her long nails against one of the vocalists’ throat, and there really was a lot of lace, flapping around everywhere. The complaint made sense. 

Juyeon paid attention after that, getting a feel for the balancing act, the way that there’d be allusions and provocative choreography and suggestive outfits and never anything that was definitively guilty, nothing certain, nothing that couldn’t be excused away. For girl groups, plenty of choreography with careful head-tilts, a deft hand moving to frame their unmarred throat— or maybe makeup that hinted at marring, if they wanted to be properly risque. The boy groups tended to get blazers with frilly undershirts and plenty of extra pale foundation, contrasted by heavy, gloomy eye-makeup and eerie contacts. Maybe even sharp veneers depending on dedication. For someone as direct and forthright and clear as Juyeon, coming to see the deliberate ambiguity felt like learning how a magic trick is done: a jolt of quick satisfaction, a riddle unravelled. And then a subtler, more quiet sadness as the enigmatic glamour was defeated by knowledge of its inner workings. 

Unconsciously or not Juyeon did his best to avoid the bee's nest gossip of all the vampire cliques scattered across the industry. He did not want everyday details of who had pissed off who the most, of who’s sleeping with who, of who has left the group chat, can you believe it. He had little use for those sorts of shallow-end mundanities as he attempted to cultivate his own deep waters, trying to maintain that aura of mystery, an inner fort protected against the sullying threat of learning the tricks of the trade.

This took the form of a number of books on the history(ies) of Vampires in European art, both as muse and artists; a thin volume regarding depictions of vampires in contemporary literature in East Asia; a couple of monographs by photographers he liked, some of them from overseas; a collection of poetry by an artistic collective in Seoul, whose exhibitions he had not yet had a chance to visit. He had plenty of books and art by people who weren’t vampires too, of course, but what he wanted back then was the steep plunge of the unknown, everything getting colder the further he went, pressure against him as he strained away from the surface. It didn’t matter that what Juyeon was reaching for was something unrecognizable, fathomless, in a language he did not yet understand: it spoke to him anyway, coming up out of darkness to meet him. 

These days things make a little more sense, touch a little closer. It is surprising, though, how much remains mysterious. Here on the other side of it Changmin remains as enigmatic as ever despite this new shared interest. Even with Juyeon’s unguarded, unsuspicious way of looking at things he has always been aware of Changmin’s uniqueness; Changmin is mostly soft-spoken and sweet-faced and underneath that, very very intense. Juyeon likes him a lot, and has always liked him, even the parts of him that are strange.

Juyeon had expected those strangenesses to become legible, but instead when Juyeon passes Changmin in the dorm lounge room and asks how Changmin’s day is going, he gets “Perfect!” as a response, and then a strange, curious staredown, no more clear than anything had been before.

“Oh um, what are you,” Juyeon tries, “what are you having?” 

Changmin is trying to stab his straw through the plastic sealing on a bubble-tea-esque cup, although the shadow of dark liquid inside the white opaque plastic tells Juyeon that it’s probably blood. Juyeon is a little worried about what could happen if Changmin spills it, but Juyeon also knows better than to interfere. 

“It’s a new place,” Changmin says distractedly, “They do swaps, vampire blood for fresh,” and angles his arm awkwardly to show the bandaid on his inner elbow. 

“What?” Juyeon says, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the lounge room. 

Changmin manages to puncture the straw through, then sucks noisily at the overflow before it can spill.

“What— what do they use it for?” Juyeon asks, confused and hot-bellied. It’s not— it’s not as if people who _aren’t_ vampires can drink vampire blood, it’d be—

Changmin shrugs, unbothered. “Science experiments, probably, or maybe they sell it under the table,” and then with a funny little smile, “or maybe they drink it.”[4]

Changmin has blood on his teeth, proper, real, richly rubied blood, not the thin half-synthetic processed kind that’s easiest to get a hold of. Juyeon feels a cool thrill, a current passing through him as Changmin licks his lips and tilts his head to look at Juyeon.

“Why are you just standing there?” Changmin says, and then pats the couch next to him. Juyeon shivers, the moment washing away, and then sits. Changmin offers him the cup but Juyeon shakes his head. The real stuff still makes him feel sick sometimes. 

“I think the cup seal is meant for biting,” Changmin says, unruffled, “but it just seems so awkward, so I went next door for a straw.”

“That makes sense,” Juyeon says. Some people try and do that, coming up with gimmicky ways to emulate the use of fangs without actually biting someone. Juyeon’s never bothered with it. Juyeon wonders if Changmin prefers to bite people too, just like he seems to prefer the realer blood, the stuff that’s more expensive and from those weird little vampire-run pop-up organisations rather than the more popular cafes. 

Changmin can be so— mercurial. It’s difficult to imagine what he’d be like biting someone. Polite, definitely, but then that sudden flash, the instant brilliance that sometimes makes Juyeon want to hold his hand to his face, like shielding himself from a bright light. It would be a lot, to be cornered by Changmin. 

***

Most of the music video for D.D.D had been filmed in New York and now everyone's got choreo to learn and roots to get touched up and fittings to attend, all of that routine, the momentum building. Juyeon is attached to this part of the process, the way it feels like the members of the group are friends in a different way for this duration. Juyeon is more of a believer in the unity of the group than maybe is true, at least this point anyway, and so the closeness that comes with preparation eases an odd, angular tension he never really particularly notices until it’s gone. 

The others shift too when it comes to comeback prep; it’s not just Juyeon that senses the way they close ranks, a different understanding between all of them fluttering quietly through the group as they go through performance reviews. Hyunjoon is not participating in this comeback again, and it’s a leak, a rip pulling water straight out from under everyone and churning out the back into the true proper deep ocean, and everyone's trying to compensate without saying something that’ll somehow get them sucked out by that dark undercurrent. 

Not that Juyeon is particularly good at it. He is forthright and honest to a fault and mostly avoids upsetting anyone because he follows other people’s lead and it doesn’t occur to him very often to cause problems on purpose, and everyone else knows this. Juyeon sent Hyunjoon pictures of the group during the fittings and hadn’t understood why Jaehyun had seemed worried about it. 

Anyway. Practice today was good and Juyeon is satisfied and tired and hungry, hungry in both ways, or maybe just in the one essential way, having burnt himself up and needing more of everything to fuel the combustion. He's scrolling through his phone, wondering if it’s worth asking Chanhee and Changmin if they want to do a group order when it’ll take them ages to bicker over where to buy from. 

Kevin and Chanhee went to refill their water bottles; when they come back and sit down they’re mid-conversation, playing the old familiar game that had started in a green room somewhere. It had begun as a more euphemistic and lax game of fuck-marry-kill and by now it mostly consists of listing names and nodding or scoffing. 

Changmin doesn’t play but seems to emanate opinions anyway. Kevin used to divert conversation quite obviously and abruptly when Juyeon was nearby, which took Juyeon a few months to pick up on and then one time he said, “It’s okay,” and then, “what about Yunho?” which made Chanhee hit him on the leg and laugh. Kevin said something stilted about _yes, sure, very marriageable_ , and after that he at least wouldn’t cut out halfway through a sentence when Juyeon walked over. It made it easier for the four of them to hang out. 

And Juyeon likes when it's just the four of them like this — in the practice rooms, or when dinner schedules line up to have them around the table all at once, or the very few times Juyeon manages to convince Chanhee that they should do dance practice together. Often Younghoon will turn up or maybe Sunwoo or Eric, but from the very start of this group Juyeon felt an almost unwarranted alliance for his year-mates and with his usual confidence he has always assumed it is reciprocated. It feels both preordained and fortuitous, the comfort of familiar home, an origin point Juyeon can return to. 

Chanhee and Kevin are still playing their game, sipping from their water bottles as they halfheartedly stretch and talk. They are close and facing each other but not touching, Chanhee’s feet near Kevin’s. Kevin mentions one of the new dancers; Chanhee says, “Yes, as long as no-one else ever found out,” which makes Kevin laugh. 

The back and forth is like a kid's skipping game, the _tck-tck-tck_ of the rope hitting pavement and your body swaying as it catches a feel for the rhythm. Juyeon is not usually hesitant to join conversations, but he tends to think things over a little more carefully than this rapid-fire banter, and so he's always been a spectator. It feels like it’s one of those things he can’t second-guess because the sliver of opportunity will have already passed, and he doesn't want to mistime it and get tangled. 

Juyeon is also prone to being distracted, of course. Chanhee says Park Jin, who Juyeon might have even said himself; he’d actually been the one to show the GQ photoshoot[5] to Chanhee. Kevin has no idea who that is, so Chanhee has to pull up photos, and instead of commenting himself Juyeon's busy thinking about how he would’ve done the same beach shoot, how he would’ve hoped to be to styled — Juyeon wants to try a proper shirtless shoot eventually, although he's not sure if management would really allow it. And it’s more artful when there’s clothes involved but they’re revealing, at least in Juyeon's opinion; it’s classier and more alluring. 

Kevin taps Chanhee’s phone into his own palm before saying, “Yeah, I guess,” with a thoughtful expression. Then he mentions someone whose name Juyeon doesn't recognise. He might be a model too, so he takes a mental note to look him up later. 

Chanhee squints at Kevin and rolls his eyes; Juyeon is unaware that Kevin and said model are following each other on instagram. Kevin says, “What! You wouldn’t?” 

Chanhee makes a sharp movement with his hand that turns fluttery, causing Kevin to laugh. Kevin thinks for a moment and says, “Beomseok, then,” and Chanhee says, “We already talked about this, he seems like he’d be too needy. Annoying.” Kevin makes a noise that’s longsuffering, like they’ve argued about this at length. Juyeon doesn't know who they’re talking about so he can’t be sure whose side he should be on. 

Kevin seems to like guys Juyeon didn’t know were gay, or who, he's pretty sure, are quite definitely not gay[6]. In contrast, Chanhee doesn’t really have a type; it seems more like a complex system of disqualifications. There’s probably points involved, and Juyeon believes himself most certainly above the cut-off, which makes him proud. Not that Chanhee has ever indicated what his opinion actually is, but it doesn’t ever really occur to Juyeon that it would be possible for him to not be high-ranking. 

Juyeon shuffles backwards without looking and leans against Changmin’s knees. Changmin slings an arm over Juyeon’s shoulders, playing with his collar, and Juyeon wonders if the vague aura of approval or agreement — and sometimes disagreement — that Changmin gives off during these discussions is about hooking up, or biting, or both. This close, Juyeon can smell Changmin, the familiar body wash that they all use, the laundry detergent they share, sweat the same as the streaks down Juyeon’s back. Underneath that, something calm and velvety, dark, Changmin alone.

Juyeon is still idly considering this when Chanhee says, “Okay, then what about Mingyu,” one of the new hairstylists who’s been working with the group for this comeback. For some reason this time Juyeon can see it, can sense the arc of the rope right before its high point, the clear and easy path suddenly evident: the space for him to step forward.

He says, “Sure,” only a moment before Kevin says, “Yeah, wait, what?” the last bit of it in English as he jolts to turn and look at Juyeon.

“What? He’s hot,” Juyeon says, shrugging, “He rides a motorbike and collects film cameras.” There is more defensiveness audible to the others than he is aware of.

Kevin’s eyebrows are very high. “I mean. Sure. But—”

“Don’t scare Kevin,” Chanhee says, smiling at Juyeon as he nudges Kevin’s shoe. 

“I didn’t mean to," Juyeon says earnestly, “Sorry. Did I scare you?” and only a little bit of smugness leaks through. 

Kevin pulls a face and rubs his temples, then says, “You did not scare me,” and pauses like there’s more to that sentence, although he doesn’t finish it, just sighs heavily. 

Chanhee flicks his eyes over Juyeon's shoulder and makes a face at Changmin that Juyeon can’t parse. He turns and looks at Changmin, remembering that Changmin is probably higher in Chanhee’s ranking of sexability. Juyeon feels a little sparking urge to prove himself, so when he looks back at Kevin he wiggles his eyebrows and pouts at him. 

“Juyeonie,” Kevin says, whining, flopping back on the floor in complaint, all, _what-are-we-gonna-do-with-you_ ; a familiar tone from him, although it took Juyeon a while to learn to recognise it. From behind Juyeon Changmin says, “Are you asking about Juyeon now?” 

Kevin rolls away with a horrified screech and Juyeon gives an offended yelp on only the slightest of delays, clambering up to crawl after Kevin. Chanhee rolls his eyes and stands up in front of Juyeon, blocking his path and looking tall from where Juyeon is crouched on the floor. 

“Okay, I think we need food,” Chanhee says. Juyeon sits back with a huff, watching Kevin laugh at the ceiling on the other side of Chanhee’s legs. Chanhee smiles down at Juyeon, looking like he’s about to say something — it’s rare for him to not say whatever is on his mind — but he just licks his lips and jerks his chin up, so Juyeon pushes himself to standing and turn to help Changmin up, too. 

Chanhee, unbeknownst to Juyeon, is putting quite a lot of effort into figuring Juyeon out. On the way to dinner Juyeon bickers goodnaturedly with Changmin about whether the tteokbokki from Changmin's favourite stall is worth going out of their way and adding time to their trip home to get it, nudging each other back and forth across the lines of the footpath. Chanhee is walking behind them with Kevin, the soft clink of his water bottle swinging back and forth setting the pace for everyone. 

***

Juyeon’s old high school friends don’t have a problem with the vampire development, although he doesn't explain much, either. They take in their stride with good humour and plenty of gentle ribbing for Juyeon, but really in the scheme of things it’s not anything stranger than everything else about his life. Juyeon takes up again with his ex, except they aren’t sleeping together this time; he’s just biting her, and trying not to think too hard about how perfunctory the experience is. 

Biting is so different to drinking the bought stuff. You can smell everything, feel everything. Juyeon doesn’t want to. He doesn't like how still she is, how he can feel her soften and go mellow, humming when he licks her throat. He tries to be polite and friendly, but her blood arrives in gentle waves for him, the rhythm of her heartbeat slow. Juyeon holds himself as careful as he can, but this isn’t packaged synthetics, or donations, or an iron-rich custom blend. This is blood, blood, blood, the need going simple and primal. 

She’s easy-going about it all, no hard feelings about how things have ended up, and she jokes sometimes about Juyeon turning her. Every time she does so he keeps his hands very still — the bloodrush is still so intense, making him twitchy and wanting to touch — and he says quite seriously, “That’s not how it works,” and she laughs at him and flops back to splay out across her bed, enjoying the high. 

It really _isn’t_ how it works, anyway, and it’s not good to reinforce that kind of thinking, even if she’s only joking. There’s no germ, no cell, no invisible force or vector of transmission that makes people change, no matter how much the scientists keep looking for it[7]. Sometimes people do turn after being bitten once or twice, or sometimes they never turn at all no matter how often they’re getting bitten, and sometimes people’s fangs come in when they’re five or fifteen, awkward and unmissable. Sometimes it just happens for no reason at all, like it did with Juyeon. At least, this is what he tells her and his friends, although there is, most likely, more to it than that: Juyeon was in New York and had felt an opening, a space of possibility being unfolded by an unknown force, and this is what had arrived to fill it. 

***

Eric, of course, cannot help but be annoying about it. He figured it out quickly and was at first perturbed and weirdly jittery, loudmouthed with jokes that Juyeon thought were odd and did not realise were aimed at him, testing the waters, checking the boundaries. Then Eric settled down, which was a relief, although Juyeon should’ve recognised this as a sign that Eric was thinking too much and therefore likely to cause problems in the near future, which is now. 

On tour, drunk in Paris, hanging out in Eric’s hotel room stretched out across a queen bed with an arm’s length of empty crisp duvet between the two of them, he offers to let Juyeon bite him. Juyeon almost rolls off onto the floor in shock and throws Eric a wide-eyed look, Juyeon’s mouth open in thought, trying to process. 

Eric misinterprets Juyeon’s concern; he sits up properly and says, “It doesn’t hurt that bad right? And you get like, a super wicked high, I heard,” and has a twisted smile to show that he’s like, cool with it all.

His offer disgusts Juyeon, quick little stomach turn and bolt of nausea right through his instincts. Eric’s hair is sticking up on one side and Juyeon wants to reach out and smooth it down, neaten him back into himself.

“No, it’s —” _It’s special,_ Juyeon wants to say, even though it kind of isn’t. It just isn’t a thing he wants to do with Eric. “That would be weird.”

Eric seems a little offended by this, and then quickly recovers. He shrugs and starts beating up his pillow and goes back to channel surfing. Juyeon isn’t one for nervous habits but he keeps trying to push his fringe out of his eyes as he repositions himself on the bed, nervous stutter happening in his hands with nowhere to go. 

Eric seems to assume it’s just one of those vampire things, even though it is moreso a _Juyeon_ thing. Eric is actually more hurt than Juyeon realises, because he would give Juyeon anything if he asked it of him and Eric would like him to ask at least once, not even as a prelude to something bigger or as a sign of a greater intimacy. He would like just one confirmation that Juyeon needs something from him. 

Hyunjoon is gone and that is what Juyeon is thinking about right now, how Hyunjoon would’ve understood firstly because he was a vampire and secondly because he understood Juyeon. Not that Juyeon dislikes Eric; he cares for him deeply— he just— he can be so much, sometimes. It’s not anything too bad, just—they transmit their affection for each other at mismatched speeds, or something. 

The TV stops flickering through movies so scattershot and settles on something action-y. The only subtitles are English or French and hard to keep up with, so Eric half-assedly translates chunks of it when he can concentrate well enough for it, but it doesn’t really matter that much. It’s mostly punching and shooting and fighting, which is easy enough to follow. 

Eric’s translating gets so haphazard that Juyeon starts filling in the dialogue, a couple of beats behind the faces on screen because it takes him a little too long to think of his punchlines. Eric barks laughter and joins in, until they’re both putting on silly voices, inventing whole new vendettas and grudges for everyone. Eric seems fine. Eric seems happy. Juyeon is not noticing the edge of hysteria and strangeness to him, because Juyeon tends to take people at face value and Eric is trying hard to seem fine. Juyeon is pleased with himself, believing that he has solved the situation cleanly and adeptly. 

***

Before Juyeon turned he had thought about being bitten often enough for it to be a thing he could say he was interested in, or even wanted. He didn’t say that though, because no one ever asked. It was the same with boys; he felt — and still feels — like he would like to try that, but no one has offered, and he didn’t quite mind enough to start figuring out who to ask, or how[8].

It was just… something he thought about sometimes. Mostly when he read poetry that he really liked, or when the idea touched against his mind in conjunction with a cool stylist or photographer pulling at his collar, workman-like adjusting his hems, saying, “oh yes, this looks good,” their hands and eyes on Juyeon with detached professionality or casual, friendly flirtation. Either way, that contact made Juyeon think things sometimes, a quiet rustling.

It wasn’t panic or suppression that kept Juyeon from thinking about the other members when it came to biting or being bitten or even other things, either. It didn’t particularly occur to him to investigate that line of opportunity mostly because it seemed impolite and against the spirit of camaraderie he wanted to believe in. Hyunjoon used to make jokes sometimes and Juyeon thought they were funny and now Hyunjoon isn’t around for Juyeon to think any harder about it. 

Europe is very good for Juyeon. He goes to a couple of bars and clubs with some of the staff and one night very late, in one of the more alternative, interesting clubs, he puts his hand on a man’s throat, bites him easily when he offers, and while it isn’t exactly what Juyeon doesn’t yet know that he wants, it’s as close as he’s come yet. Juyeon will remember for days the feeling of the man’s hand on Juyeon’s bicep as he holds himself upright against Juyeon in the sweaty crowd, the uneven sound of him gasping above Juyeon louder, somehow, than any of the people around them or the dingy club music or even Juyeon’s own heartbeat, which is racing, ba-dum-da-dum, ba-dum-da-dum, movement caught inside him as the hot copper taste pours right in, ba-dum-da-dum, and he’s still got a tight grip in Juyeon’s hair, holding Juyeon against him. More important than all of that is the hitch and shudder of breath he gives when Juyeon takes from him, and then the quiet sigh when Juyeon licks over the bite, Juyeon’s mouth slick and full, the noise he makes right where Juyeon can hear it, pressed up so close. It sounds like he’s enjoying himself. 

***

The group’s first full album — a milestone. Juyeon is put on a leash and is pretty excited about it. It’s a werewolf concept first and foremost, vampire-adjacent at best but with enough theatricality that Juyeon is properly enthusiastic about honing his way in. Juyeon is enjoying the feeling of finding something new to be good at, of delivering something to their audience that’s a new fantasy, something more sophisticated, sexy in a way that feels refined. 

Jaehyun teases Juyeon about it a bit because he’s shyer and has more sense of shame about these things. Juyeon thinks that’s silly — this is part of the job, after all, and Juyeon likes being good at being wanted, no matter what that looks like. He knows he’s better suited to this stuff than the fresher, cutesy concepts anyway, even though he always did his best with them. This feels — grander, letting him stretch his considerable wingspan.

It takes everyone else a while to adjust though. Eric and Changmin take days and days to be able to do their little moment without cracking up, and they achieve a serious take mostly just because their tiredness wipes them of humour. That doesn’t last that long either, everyone passing through into the other side of exhausted where everything is way too funny, and the group spends dress rehearsals flicking each other with belts and squelching the plasticy, leathery gloves as disgustingly as possible. 

MV filming is always chaotic, underslept and weary and pure focus, switching on for the cameras as quick as you can, and then hours of waiting, trying to keep yourself thrumming with the pulse of the story, practicing choreography, staying busy; then another flurry of shocking, tense activity before being told to amuse yourselves in a corner, try and nap before the ride home. Sangyeon watches Juyeon and Jaehyun film some scenes and says, “So you’re hunting Jaehyun?” and pokes his own canine with a tongue. Despite the director’s instructions Juyeon hadn’t quite put together the implications of what they were filming, so he’s a little bit embarrassed, flushed with rare caution, but Sangyeon just laughs and says, “he deserves it,” while nudging him. 

By the end of filming they’re all delirious, giddy, buoyed up and crackling with the last brittle vestiges of momentum. After the last take everyone claps, bowing over and over and the staff bowing back, up and down so much Juyeon starts getting queasy. He turns and flashes his fangs at Jaehyun just to make him laugh and it works, catching eye contact on the upswing. Jaehyun jerks upright faster than Juyeon, puts his hand to his forehead and dramatically staggers sideways into Sunwoo, who shoves him back into Juyeon; he catches Jaehyun with his fangs still down, and instead of shying away he hunches his shoulders up and stays leaning against Juyeon. Jaehyun smells chemical-y, the sharp floral hairspray overpowering the more familiar warmth of sweat and tiredness. Juyeon pats him on the shoulder kindly. 

The group gets a precious few days to recover. Juyeon passes out for twelve hours and then has his first feed in a while, which means no more sleep for him today; he’s wound up, unable to relax with the flourish of energy. He goes for a walk to try and calibrate to the day, but the sun is weak and not doing much to warm him, the air the sort of bitter, dry cold that slaps you in the face and drills a crisp ache into your throat and chest. He buys himself roasted chestnuts from a vendor he talks to sometimes, her daughter in her last year of high school, and when she gives Juyeon a little more than he paid for he thanks her profusely. He carries the bag home with both hands, enjoying the almost-painful heat as it seeps through his gloves. 

When Juyeon lets himself back into the dorm it’s quiet and unlit, all the curtains drawn, the low murmur of someone on the phone coming through a door. His own room is pitch black and silent save for the quiet sound of Younghoon’s breathing on the top bunk. Juyeon is glad he’s here. Juyeon’s just going to watch a movie or read a book or something, but it’s still nice to have company. 

Juyeon’s movie[9] is most of the way through and all of his chestnuts eaten before he’s distracted by the door to the room gently pushing open. The room is still dark and Juyeon’s eyesight is all blown out from his screen, so all he can see is a silhouette and the weak curtain-filtered light behind whoever it is. They move into the room and then Juyeon can tell from the line of their shoulders that it’s Chanhee, yellow glinting off his face and neck. 

Chanhee holds his finger up to his mouth. Juyeon doesn’t take his earphones out, his movie still playing incongruously loudly and sending English phrases rattling into his head as he watches Chanhee push the door closed behind him. Juyeon tracks him as he carefully, quietly climbs the bunk ladder up to Younghoon. Juyeon pauses his movie and stares up at the dark slats above him. There’s a weird muffled groan, and then a yelp, and then some hissed whispering that he can’t hear clearly enough to decipher.

Juyeon puts one foot up against the bottom of Younghoon’s bunk, not enough to push the slats up or move anything, just stretching his leg. He’s still got his Ipad held in both hands, his grip tight, solid. 

Juyeon isn’t sure if Younghoon is a vampire or not. Younghoon has never talked about it and Juyeon has never seen him drink blood, but he’s — he’s lanky and quiet and a little bit odd, in a way that Juyeon likes. Younghoon has that haunted look to him sometimes, like he knows more than he’s willing to say, and he cries easily. He’s sensitive. 

Or maybe that just means Younghoon likes being bitten. He pulls off the swooning temptation look pretty well, especially when he’s all forlorn and pale and possibly about to faint. 

Chanhee, on the other hand, has never seemed particularly interested in being ambiguous. Even when Juyeon and Chanhee first met years ago it seemed a little like Chanhee was on another plane of existence. He was cool in a way Juyeon hadn’t really encountered very often, which is to say he dressed more high fashion than streetwear and seemed like he’d get along better with women than with Juyeon. It was clear from early on that Chanhee was gay and a vampire and these were things that made him smarter and more interesting than most other people Juyeon encountered, including himself. 

Juyeon didn’t dwell on it very much, because even back then at the heart of it he was kind and accommodating and unbothered by things that other normal people liked to be bothered by. Chanhee used to be careful with Juyeon and now he is less so, and maybe Juyeon used to sometimes treat Chanhee like a girl which wasn’t bad, because Juyeon’s own unique standards of propriety and respect have always been important to him, but it was incorrect, and now Juyeon just treats him like Chanhee. 

Juyeon is trying to imagine what’s happening above him and also trying very hard not to think about it all. They’re just talking. Jacob sometimes comes and lies next to Juyeon and plays around on his phone, and they just hang out like that, tucked close and sharing the bed. It’s normal. Juyeon doesn’t know why he’s so restless, wanting to kick up at the bed and throw his Ipad across the room. Instead he lies very still, his earphones playing nothing but silence as he stares unblinking above him, straining to hear. 

Chanhee says something about Changmin, Juyeon thinks, and mentions something cute and tells a charming little story, or possibly just says something about dinner. Juyeon doesn’t know. He’s put the Ipad down and is leaning up on his elbows, as if the extra couple of inches will somehow make him able to hear better. He pulls out the earphones. Younghoon says something quietly and Chanhee laughs a little too loudly, then _shhhh_ s himself. 

Even if Younghoon is a vampire too, that doesn’t— that doesn’t mean they’re not— Juyeon knows about vampires who like biting each other. His hands are hot and sweaty and he rubs them on his shirt. Juyeon doesn’t think about this stuff very much. He likes being a vampire. He also knows that vampires are already something— dangerous, and a little bit wrong, and too much— which can be sexy, and scary, and both. It appeals to people who have never even met a vampire, who just want to fantasize about something excessive, about desire so good it hurts. It appealed to _him_ , after all. 

But vampires who bite vampires— it’s not— it’s in some of his books, only the ones written by vampires. It’s best kept amongst themselves, although even then there are vampires who don’t like it either. To be a vampire who won’t even follow their own nature, who wants _even more_ , who wants the blood of a brother; to be that brother of tooth and hunger, and to want to have done to you what you are meant to do to others: this is a sidewaysness that not many understand. 

Juyeon swallows spit and remembers hot copper. He is trying to breathe normally, the twinned wrong-yes-wrong-no-right-yes tangle happening. He is confusing himself by thinking too hard. Just because it feels wrong doesn’t mean it is wrong. Just because it shouldn’t matter doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. Juyeon likes thinking things through with care and without assumptions, with attention for the simple things that others might overlook; he prefers to be precise about his feelings and how things are meant to fit together in the quiet cool space of his own mind. But these things don’t make sense when he tries to solve them with words, because it’s about thirst, and about want, and about need. How are you meant to find the language to describe something you lack? 

Juyeon wonders, suddenly, if his fangs are about to show. He’s never had to guess about it before, since he was so quick to learn the patterns of his impulses and the fine control needed for handling them. He’s breathing deep, slow, calm so they don’t hear him up above. He stretches his arms long and tight above him, hits the cold metal of the bed frame, and then picks up his ipad and puts his earphones back in. 

Juyeon does not absorb much of the movie. He scrubs back and back again, and watches the same movements, the same scenes play out on repeat, trying to focus. Suddenly he gets a kakao notification, which makes him jump, and it’s from Chanhee; he looks up and there’s Chanhee’s face in the dark, peering over the edge of Younghoon’s bed. Juyeon takes one of his earphones out.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Chanhee whispers, grinning. He’s sliding further, tipping a little upside down with his hair standing on end.

Juyeon shrugs and takes the other earphone out, clear indication that he’s paying attention.

“Do you two ever even speak?” Chanhee says. Juyeon blinks. He’s still grinning, dim light glinting off his teeth.

“We talk about you sometimes,” Juyeon says, although he stutters a little at the start and has to clear his throat. Chanhee laughs with surprise anyway, his hair waving a little madly, and then he sits up, sweeping away from Juyeon. 

“Only good things, I presume,” he says, out of sight.

“Oh yes, of course,” Younghoon replies. 

There’s a beat of quiet. Juyeon can hear his own breathing. His fangs don’t feel like they’re going to show anymore, and he wonders if he can maybe concentrate on his movie again. 

“Juyeon?” Chanhee asks, firm like he always is. Juyeon glances up but Chanhee hasn’t leant over the edge again. 

“Of course, Chanhee-yah,” Juyeon says, “Only ever good things.”

Chanhee makes a sound of agreement and Juyeon can imagine his sharp nod, the serious line of his mouth before he breaks into smiling again. It’s easier for Juyeon to concentrate on his movie after that, even though he can still sometimes hear the whispered edge of Chanhee and Younghoon’s conversation. When they clamber down to leave Chanhee touches Juyeon’s ankle on his way out, a quick, solid grip as he looks at Juyeon, and Juyeon smiles back before he can really think about it. 

***

Changmin is so fun to watch. Even now Juyeon likes just sitting in the practice rooms with his back pressed sweatily to the mirror, catching his breath and watching Changmin’s run-throughs. Watching Changmin dance feels like one side of a conversation, and Juyeon isn’t sure what he’s saying or to whom, but it’s nice to see from the sidelines, anyway. Changmin dances very differently: Juyeon travels somewhere else, finds the place for precision and exhilaration without thought or everyday feelings. Changmin is instead very anchored, himself but even moreso, drawing on something from within. 

Road to Kingdom has changed everyone. Juyeon had a fairly significant meltdown on camera, which was a little bit embarrassing, but mostly they performed, all of them, and it worked again and again, and Sunwoo fell off a great height, trusting that he’d be caught. Everyone had to trust that fall: each time it felt impossible, like there was no way they were going to land it, and yet somehow with great determination they’d be standing upright at the end, in shock at themselves.

Juyeon doesn’t get distracted when working — he is focused, steady, present. But at the same time he occupied that dense stretch of time double-minded, part of him trying to grasp everything it could, to hold onto it and remember it in a way that does it justice, and now even after victory he sometimes thinks over precise moments to try and understand them, to weave together the threads of the story. Back then so much was going on that there wasn’t time for understanding their own history as it happened to them. 

Juyeon and Changmin are both working on their A To Boyz pieces; the choreos are very different, by different choreographers. Changmin can’t run properly wide in the dance studio but he’s laughing anyway, not looking at Juyeon, the music fading out. He’s breathing deep, tired and sweaty in the gap before the song loops, and then he’s ready to do it all over again, held easy and strong. Juyeon is remembering Changmin’s frustration during the Road to Kingdom practices, and his joy too, wound-up and vibrational. 

Changmin has always had something wild in him, something different and separate even from the bloodthirst, although these two things seem to co-mingle inside him often enough. Unbeknownst to Juyeon, Changmin does not fully understand these parts of himself; he doesn’t want to spend all that much time looking at them, not like Juyeon does. For Changmin, it arcs out of him, seeking contact like an electric charge. If it can’t be understood inside then at least it can be witnessed outside. 

When Changmin finishes the choreography again he holds the ending pose for a moment, staring well beyond Juyeon, his chest heaving. His fangs are showing, his eyes breaking gold. This happens sometimes with Changmin. No-one is ever sure if he can’t control it or if he just doesn’t want to. 

“It’s good,” Juyeon says, because it is. 

Changmin half-rolls his eyes, already asking for his phone off Juyeon, who had it propped next to him to record. They both do their cool down stretches as Changmin watches the videos, muttering to himself. 

When they get home Younghoon’s watching TV in the lounge room, and Juyeon showers first; when he comes out from getting changed Younghoon’s still sprawled across the lounge with his feet in Changmin’s lap.

“The shower’s free,” Juyeon says. Changmin is frowning at his phone very intently, mouth curled down so seriously that it strikes Juyeon as charming rather than particularly concerning. Juyeon pulls Younghoon’s feet off Changmin’s lap and Younghoon moves without comment, making room for Juyeon to sit down, but before he can do so Changmin pauses his furious typing and grabs Juyeon’s wrist. 

“You want to shower?” Juyeon tries again. 

“Chanhee said he’s still at the studios,” Changmin says pleasantly. Juyeon is unsure of what’s going on, and can feel Younghoon watching him and Changmin closely. 

“Okay?” Juyeon says. Then Changmin bites down on Juyeon’s arm, above his grip on Juyeon’s wrist, on the meat of his forearm.

Juyeon says, “Uhhhhh,” and doesn’t pull away. Changmin isn’t using his fangs or anything. It just seems like he’s in a mood, so when he pulls Juyeon towards himself Juyeon goes, landing on the couch heavily as Younghoon gets his legs out of the way in time. Changmin bites Juyeon’s arm again; Juyeon tenses, and Changmin digs his fingers in deeper against Juyeon’s wrist. His skin is going white, blood fleeing, the heat of Changmin’s hand around Juyeon’s wrist a circle brighter than the quick impact of the bites. 

“I think he’s mad,” Younghoon says. Everyone is being oddly relaxed about this, Juyeon included. His arm is beginning to hurt properly. Suddenly Changmin shifts— Juyeon finally comes to his own defence and gets his arms up, trying to fend Changmin off as he tries to climb onto Juyeon— Younghoon starts half-wailing and waving his legs around to prod at Changmin with his feet, although it’s half-hearted, not really wanting to distract Changmin from his current target, which is Juyeon. 

Trying to fight him off just makes Changmin laugh, which makes Juyeon laugh and fail terribly at fighting him off, trying to kick this legs out and keep Changmin at bay. Juyeon’s gasping, grunting against the weight, doing a bad job of keeping his guard up. Changmin bites Juyeon’s other arm and Juyeon shoves the heel of his hand against Changmin’s forehead, and he’s still sweaty and unshowered so it’s easy for him to shake Juyeon off, and then he grabs Juyeon’s leg and bites that too. Juyeon does yell at that, finally, a strong, “Hey! Ow! Hey!” even though he’s half-laughing too, disbelief and amusement and shock all intermingled. Juyeon finally shakes Changmin off, nervous-bellied and with a shudder running through him, and he can’t take his eyes off Changmin, watching for his next move, his dark eyes shining back at Juyeon. 

Someone comes out of one of the bedrooms and says, “What’s—” it’s Sunwoo, Juyeon is pretty sure, and Changmin whips his head around and is standing up quickly. Younghoon rolls off the couch and Juyeon flees with him, slamming the door of their bedroom closed behind them as Sunwoo lets out a high pitched yell. Juyeon throws the lock and leans against the door heavily, hysterical laughter burbling up. 

“He’s crazy,” Juyeon says, still laughing. Neither of them have turned the light on and Younghoon is sitting on Juyeon’s bed. All Juyeon can see is the glint of Younghoon’s eyes and teeth. 

There is quite a lot of screaming happening outside. The yellow light that was pouring in around Juyeon’s feet suddenly disappears, and then him and Younghoon are in proper, real darkness. Juyeon is still leaning against the door, solid and cold against his heartbeat. He is hot and shaky with adrenalin, excitement, needing the solid support at his back. He wants to pace the room.

The yelling gets closer and then the door handle rattles beside Juyeon. He jumps and hears Younghoon move too, hissing, “Is it—” and Juyeon _shhh_ s him. Is it Changmin? Juyeon wants it to be, he realises. Juyeon stands still and silent, his heartbeat thundering through him, on the verge of something. Juyeon hopes that Changmin is trying to get to him. 

They rattle the door handle again, this time with a “Help!” accompanying it, short and cut-off like they’re afraid of being heard. It’s Eric. Younghoon moves a little in the darkness, but Juyeon holds his hand up, stays shoved against the door. 

“We’re asleep,” Juyeon says, and holds the door handle too, so Eric can’t even rattle it. 

Eric bangs against the door again, then hisses, “What? You’re not gonna let me in?” which makes Younghoon give out a little wheeze of laughter. Juyeon is inordinately proud of his prank, even though it’s barely a prank, more like just opportunistic meanness. 

“Assholes,” Eric hisses, and then there’s quick footsteps away, and Juyeon can fall forward off the door and laugh properly. Younghoon gets up and clambers up into his bunk. Juyeon feels a little weal of hot guilt, thinking about Eric searching for sanctuary, but Younghoon snickers again when he opens his phone, his screen sending a beam of blue light towards the ceiling. 

“I think Eric is mad at you,” he says, probably reading something in the group chat.

Juyeon can still hear yelling and distant muffled screams outside. He lies down across his bed, three fingers pressing into the bite on his left arm. In the dark it’s a ring of pain that he has to feel his way towards, the edge something soft and sensitive and then the curve where he’d really dug in properly a tender, weighty hurt. Changmin didn’t even have his fangs out, but normal teeth can still do plenty of damage. Juyeon doesn’t think it was a vampire thing, either: Changmin would probably still be out there terrorising everyone even if he was just human. 

He _is_ a vampire though. He could’ve had his fangs down, could’ve bitten Juyeon properly. Juyeon digs his fingers in harder, winces at the pain that spreads deep under the touch and then lets out a short sharp breath when he releases it. Juyeon is almost certain that Changmin is the sort of wild that would bite another vampire. And wouldn’t it be so good for Juyeon to be ruined like that?

Juyeon wants it. He realises this in the same way that he had been not-a-vampire and then definitely-a-vampire in the very next moment: a total and complete shift. Juyeon wants it precisely and specifically, without metaphor. He wants Changmin to bite him.

***

The next day there’s bruises forming, purple and stark in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. Juyeon takes photos and sends it to the group chat, not particularly angry with Changmin but pleased to have something to scold him for. 

Changmin finds Juyeon in the practice room watching recordings of himself on his phone, bringing him a blood pack and holding it out with a half-hitched smile. Juyeon sprawls himself out on the floor, Changmin following.

The blood’s all neatly packaged, opaque bottle and clean minimalist design from one of the more expensive suppliers that Juyeon barely ever bothers to spend the money on. He is actually more water-thirsty than in need of blood, still a few days off from real hunger, but he’s flattered by the kindness and Changmin has always had it more regularly anyway. 

Changmin sits next to Juyeon and clinks their bottle together in a toast. Juyeo sees it when Changmin’s eyes catch on the bruises. 

Juyeon wields his arm at him and pulls a sulky face, although Changmin’s eyes stay on the bruises. Juyeon pushes it closer to him and says, “I should bite you and get even.”

Changmin blinks and then sips from his bottle placidly and shrugs. “I don’t get bitten,” he says. He’s trying hard not to smile but it’s showing through anyway, quirk in the corners of his mouth.

Juyeon supposes he should perhaps wrestle him and get his revenge, but he doesn’t particularly want to. Juyeon is glad that Changmin has chosen not to apologise. 

“You only bite people,” Juyeon says. Changmin shakes his bottle at him, a reminder that he doesn’t rely on biting, and Juyeon nods and says, “but, you know.”

Changmin looks down. “And vampires too, sometimes.”

Juyeon opens his mouth and then closes it again. Juyeon’s stomach is churning with the need for Changmin to reach out and touch him, to put his hand on the marks he made on Juyeon. Juyeon feels like maybe now would be a good time to give a small speech on non-judgemental attitudes but he can’t get the words to line up right in his head. 

“Do you want me to bite you again? Properly?” Changmin says. His voice is quiet and tilting high, but Juyeon knows he means it.

Juyeon is brave. He says, “Yes.” 

Changmin smiles properly then, but it’s only a little bit meant for Juyeon, more his own satisfaction than anything else. He holds his hand out and Juyeon gives him his arm easily, and then Changmin pushes at his other shoulder until Juyeon is on his back, and Changmin is straddling his thighs, Juyeon’s left arm reaching up and closing the open angle between them, his knuckles on Changmin’s chest. Juyeon can feel his warmth through his t-shirt.

Changmin maneuvers Juyeon easily, shows him his fangs, presses two fingers into the veins at Juyeon’s elbow and bites below it, mouth on the soft flesh of his inner arm. It stings, bright and star-like pinpricks that shoot up Juyeon’s arm and somewhere further. Juyeon swallows and looks at the ceiling, trying to keep his eyes open. The hot, glowing wave of it reaches the other side of him and bounces off, rippling through him easily. He feels like he’s been hit like a gong: shockwaves slow and deep and loud, except that rather than dissipating as it moves through him the force is growing stronger, reverberating through his densest, darkest inside parts. 

It’s completely different to biting. Juyeon has no idea what it would’ve felt like if he weren’t already a vampire, what it feels like for a human instead; he doesn’t care, in another realm of his own, Changmin having taken him there. 

Juyeon can smell his own blood and hear the sound of it. Changmin’s mouth is soft and wet sliding against his skin. Changmin drinks for long enough that Juyeon gets a little dizzy even though he’s lying down. Changmin holds his hand against the wounds on Juyeon’s arm and then pulls away with a bloody palm, glistening rich and shockingly bright. Changmin holds it to Juyeon’s face and Juyeon licks it, just to see. It tastes like blood, which he guesses makes sense. His own vampire blood, opened up and illicit, on his own tongue. 

Changmin is still straddling him. Juyeon is very warm and fuzzy, and also pretty hard in his sweatpants. He thinks that sex must feel amazing, so he says, “Sex must feel amazing.”

Changmin laughs and Juyeon feels it burble through him too, like Changmin’s happiness has spread across his borders without any barriers. Changmin still has Juyeon’s blood in his teeth, on his chin. Changmin shivers, cracks his neck. His pupils are blown wide and ringed with gold, shimmering as he blinks quickly, rubbing the back of his hand on his jaw. Juyeon knows that side of it — the headrush, adrenalin and something else strumming tight, making you want to leap, to touch, to move. His other hand — the one without smears of Juyeon’s blood across it — is clenched in Juyeon’s shirt at his hip, and it is slowly twisting his shirt tighter and tighter in his grip. 

Biting always stressed Juyeon out. He had to be careful and contained, holding back; the rush of it made him jittery and ungainly and ill-sized, too powerful with nowhere to go. Now Juyeon is very loose and very peaceful, and he does not care about anything at all, except for the gentle glossy cloud that is enveloping him. Holding back is not something that Changmin is particularly interested in; he stands up and starts pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Then suddenly he comes back and puts both hands on Juyeon’s face, which makes Juyeon — who had been lulled into dozing by the rhythm of Changmin’s strides — open his eyes. 

“Juyeonie,” Changmin says. “Juyeonie, you feel good, right?”

Juyeon gives him a thumbs up.

“You taste great,” Changmin says, patting Juyeon on the cheek, and then giving an almighty, full body shiver.

Juyeon wonders idly if Changmin needs to like, go run up and down some stairs or something. Juyeon thinks probably some sex would help, but Changmin doesn’t seem interested in that, so Juyeon doesn’t say anything, just pats the ground next to him. Changmin sits beside him, huffs and lays back with his head on Juyeon’s stomach, and Juyeon slings his arm across Changmin’s chest, not holding him down but providing a reassuring weight. It’s the arm he bit, and he taps his fingers up and down the lines of Juyeon’s arm, across the first bruise from the fangless bite and the new wounds close by it. He has Juyeon shivering, humming and swimming through the throbbing sensation pleasantly.

“You’re so nice to me,” Juyeon says. Changmin laughs and Juyeon feels the movement against his belly, his arm. The floor is cool and solid under him, familiar ground. Juyeon is immensely, unimaginably satisfied.

***

A new haircut for Juyeon, buzzed clean sides that make goosebumps go up his neck when he runs his hands over his skull, all crisp and ready for filming. The video is set in a dark club that reminds him of Berlin. He is dressed very differently to then, though, the stylist holding up see-through shirts against him consideringly. All the cameras and light rigs make it very different too, everything focused on Juyeon with no accompaniment. He is not used to performing alone, the stretch of it is like a leap across a large gap, hoping for a graceful landing on the other side.

He knows the choreography very well. This is a place for him to visit, a character to occupy, but he is bringing some of himself, too, the slick taste of his own blood carrying him easily to where he needs to be. Juyeon is always nervous before a shoot, but the director and staff are taking it so seriously that it’s easy for him to relax and be serious about this too. 

Juyeon’s video is due out before Changmin’s. Juyeon sends it to the group chat immediately once it drops and laughs at the emojis Eric sends a few minutes later. 

Juyeon goes to the kitchen to get his drink from the fridge, still rewatching the video on his phone, hum of excitement and pride at the back of his teeth. He knew he’d done well, but seeing it all edited together properly— it’s good. 

Sunwoo’s already got the door of the fridge open, rummaging through the back of one of the shelves. When Juyeon says, “Whose food is that?” he jumps with surprise, giving a yell that’s muffled and echo-y. 

Juyeon reaches over him to get his bottle of aloe juice off the top shelf; Sunwoo hunches and shoves whatever container he was eyeing back into the fridge.

“Juye-o-o-on-hyung,” Sunwoo says, leaning against the fridge door as he closes it. “Your video is so good.”

Juyeon can tell that he’s being diverted[10], but he just raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Sunwoo gives a weird high giggle that seems to be something of a habit for him in conversations with Juyeon. Chanhee, who Juyeon hadn’t noticed on the couch in the lounge room, raises his voice enough to say, “He thinks you’re very sexy,” in a casual, bored tone. When Juyeon looks over Chanhee is holding his book in front of his face, by all appearances still reading. 

“Oh,” Juyeon says quite sincerely, “Thanks,” directing it to Sunwoo, who’s busy watching Chanhee.

“Well he is?” Sunwoo says, suddenly sounding offended. “Are you saying he’s not?”  
Juyeon opens his bottle and takes a drink.

“I said that the stylists did a very good job,” Chanhee responds sharply, quick to his own defense.

“But _Juyeon-hyung_ ,” Sunwoo says, his eyes flicking back towards Juyeon, “not the stylists — are you saying he wasn’t sexy? Because he was. He was hot,” and then Sunwoo slaps his hand against the fridge. 

Chanhee conspicuously turns the page of his book without looking up. Juyeon knows that Sunwoo will say anything to win an argument, but he’s still basking a little anyway, leaning back against the kitchen table and grinning. 

Chanhee snaps his book shut. “Sunwoo-yah, I know you remember what I said,” he says, carefully looking only at Sunwoo. Juyeon looks back and forth between them, raises his eyebrows at the tension. 

Their bickering is usually pretty entertaining to Juyeon, even though he is still not totally accustomed to how quick and sharp it can get. It never seems like anything ill-intentioned but it can still get thorny sometimes, and he’d rather not get caught in the middle of anything. Juyeon pushes off from the table and slouches over towards Chanhee, saying, “What are you going to do for your A to Boyz?”

Sunwoo drifts over with Juyeon, says, “Oh, Chanhee’s gonna cover Taeyeon probably,” dropping the _hyung_. Not a fantastic diversion, then, not if Sunwoo’s tone of glee is anything to go by. Juyeon sits himself sideways against the armrest, a clear view of Chanhee sitting up tight and straight with his set face. Sunwoo starts doing an improbably accurate imitation of Chanhee singing, with the emoting eyebrows and all. 

“You don’t know what I’m going to choose,” Chanhee says, not quite angry but certainly assertive. Juyeon is once more leaning back to more easily look between the two of them. 

Sunwoo just keeps his eyes closed, swaying side to side; unfortunately Juyeon laughs, which has Chanhee’s eyes narrowing, colour high on his cheeks. “Sunwoo-yah,” he says, and then when Sunwoo opens his eyes Chanhee jolts forward, holds himself barely on the edge of the couch to flash his fangs and snap his teeth together, the threat cracking across the space. Juyeon expects Sunwoo to jump or flinch and instead he just bares his fangless normal human teeth back too, hissing petulantly. 

“If you touch my leftovers I will fucking eat you,” Chanhee says. 

“Fine,” Sunwoo says, pulling a twisted expression but clearly unimpressed with the threat. He stomps away, though, so Juyeon figures that Chanhee wins this round.

Juyeon shuffles closer to Chanhee on the couch and offers him his bottle. 

“He is so _annoying,_ " Chanhee says, once he’s screwed the lid back on too tight. 

“Mmmm,” Juyeon says, not particularly willing to have an opinion. “Do you want to do a Taeyeon song?”

Chanhee opens his mouth to say something smart and snappy and pauses when he sees Juyeon’s face. “Well, Jaehyun already took IU, didn’t he,” he says, still with some bite but much gentler than Juyeon would’ve expected. Chanhee slips his phone out and scrolls through it, then starts playing music; he says, “I have a playlist,” and then goes back to reading.

Most of the songs are ballads, and sometimes Juyeon says, “This would suit you,” just to watch Chanhee try and hide his smile while still looking down at his book. Juyeon goes and gets his ipad then comes back to sit back against the arm rest again; Chanhee yawns and tucks his legs up under himself, the two of them not needing to speak to arrange themselves comfortably. 

Juyeon is not sure if Chanhee knows that Juyeon distracts him and the others when they start bickering too much. Juyeon generally prefers to nudge Chanhee away from his temper rather than toward it. He does sometimes enjoy baiting him a little bit, because who wouldn’t, but Juyeon would also rather give in easily and let everyone enjoy themselves. Juyeon has the inkling that Chanhee might be more lenient with Juyeon than he is with the others, and this makes Juyeon feel generous, more careful in return. Chanhee has a similar charitable feeling towards Juyeon’s own agreeability. Their alliance is perhaps not the most obvious in the group but they are each glad for it anyway. 

Juyeon has wondered how much of it is to do with becoming a vampire, and if it was something Chanhee knew about him all along, before it was real and manifest. Juyeon is scared to ask because it’s a scary question, and he isn’t afraid of Chanhee — Juyeon maybe has the least concern for self-preservation out of everyone, largely because Chanhee’s ire has never been directed at him properly — but he’s still wary of whatever Chanhee’s answer would be, and how Chanhee would say it to him.

Adjustments are still being made around Kevin and Chanhee’s strange rupture, their need for distance between them sending everyone else on new paths of orbit. Juyeon asked both of them about it — separately of course — back when it became noticeable and unavoidable, Neither of them wanted to talk about it with Juyeon very much, although Chanhee sounded brusque and calm and unbothered, and horrifically upset underneath that. It didn’t seem like Kevin to deliberately do something really bad to hurt Chanhee’s feelings, so Juyeon thought it was probably about Kevin not being a vampire while Chanhee is; a betrayal of circumstance. But Sunwoo is very much human and remains comfortably enmeshed in Chanhee and Changmin’s friendship. Sometimes Sunwoo makes fun of them by shoving straws on his teeth and trying to scare them, or by suddenly cowering and making the sign of the cross if Changmin stares at him too long. He tags along pretty often when Chanhee and Changmin go to the blood cafe a couple of blocks away from the practice studios, seemingly happy without ordering anything. Whatever is going on — with Kevin, or Sunwoo for that matter — has undercurrents subtler than Juyeon can intuit.

Juyeon’s friends are messaging him about his video, notifications pinging above the book he’s trying to read. They’re teasing him a lot, and he put his hand to his face, hot-cheeked. He looks up at Chanhee, who remains undistracted with his book; it looks like something that’s been translated, something serious. Juyeon and Chanhee talk about books together, sometimes. 

“Has Changmin ever bit you?” Juyeon says, an idle thought leaping forward. 

Chanhee tucks his finger in his book to save his page and then looks up, shifting in his seat. “What?” he says carefully. He doesn’t sound offended, as such, but Juyeon still swallows and feels a little jolt, and then realises what it sounded like he was asking. 

“Not— not like— I mean, the other week— um,” Juyeon almost says, _like he bit me,_ but if Changmin’s told Chanhee about _really_ biting Juyeon then that’s just as bad. “You know when he gets all funny, but without fangs,” he ends up muttering. 

Chanhee looks at Juyeon for a long moment and then smiles. “No,” he says. “He knows better.”

Juyeon nods, says, “Cool,” and watches as Chanhee goes back to reading. 

Juyeon doesn’t know if Changmin’s told Chanhee about drinking from Juyeon, and it makes Juyeon’s belly squirm, realising that he wants that; he wants Chanhee to know. Chanhee and Changmin are the kind of close that _would_ talk about it, too, woven together over the years in a delicate, strange dance that Juyeon does not know the whole of. Juyeon perceives the contours of it largely unconsciously, navigating it without thought; he’s noticed that he’s drifted closer to the both of them lately but he hasn’t realised just how much of this is by design, a slow reeling in. Chanhee has been grabbing him by the wrist a lot lately, pulling Juyeon around, testing his command, and Juyeon is unsure of how to cope with the attention when all of Chanhee is directed at him like that. 

Juyeon wonders what Chanhee would look like having bitten him, with Juyeon’s blood on his chin, his eyes sparking open, his hand still and strong on Juyeon's wrist. The gleaming silver moon smell of Chanhee, smeared red and visceral. 

Juyeon wonders what Chanhee wants from the people he bites. Enticing a vampire is a pretty simple task for a human, but for Juyeon? He’s used to people paying attention to him, sure, but he operates best with clear instructions. It’s a lot to try and think about, scattershot ideas about what Chanhee would like, what a vampire who wants another vampire like that would like— Juyeon isn’t sure if he should offer himself up, open and easy, or if he should retreat, flee quick enough to be a moving target and better for chasing— but just slow enough to be caught, of course, the side of his throat exposed and ripe and within reach. 

“Are you okay?” Chanhee says. Juyeon startles from the riot of his imagination and looks up.

“You’re all,” and then Chanhee goes all stiff-necked and grimaces. “Did you pull a muscle or something?”

“No,” Juyeon mutters, “I’m fine, I’m— It’s fine.” 

  
***

In the end Juyeon is terribly simple to seduce. He's lying on his bunk when there's a knock, and the door opens to show Chanhee, who leans against the frame. 

“Someone told me—” he pauses when he sees something in Juyeon's face. Chanhee starts again, “I was going to order some blood,” and then his tongue darts out, a nervous gesture. His eyes never leave Juyeon's though. “So we can order, or we can….. Not order.”

“We can not order?” Juyeon repeats, somewhat confused. 

Chanhee huffs. He is very flustered and nervous and hiding it badly, and Juyeon barely even notices because he's too busy sitting up and finally realising that Younghoon left the dorms fifteen minutes ago, having mentioned he wouldn't be back until well after dinner.   
  
“Oh,” Juyeon says, “um. Did you want to…… um.”  
  
Chanhee is still leaning against the doorframe, his hand on the doorknob and pushing the door back and forth, back and forth. Any other time he probably would've had something witty to say about Juyeon's stuttery lack of response, but right now he's got nothing.   
  
Juyeon stands and goes to Chanhee, and then holds the doorknob on the other side, pulls the door gently from Chanhee's grasp and holds it open properly.   
  
“Do you want to come in?” Juyeon says, very courteous, and Chanhee huffs a laugh and goes to sit on Juyeon's bunk with only a slight hint of primness, tugging the edge of the blanket neater.   
  
“You should get a towel,” he says, steely, and Juyeon rummages in his wardrobe for a clean gym towel that he then lays down next to Chanhee, making sure it’s neat and straight before Chanhee can fiddle.   
  
Juyeon sits next to him, half on the towel. He takes a breath, presses his leg against Chanhee's, stares down at it. Juyeon can only see Chanhee in his periphery, but Chanhee is looking down too, both of them watching Juyeon knock his knee against Chanhee's in a short rhythm.   
  
"Leg?" Chanhee says. 

"Leg?" Juyeon blurts back at him, still looking down, “yes?” because it’s true that they are both looking at Juyeon's leg. 

"Leg," Chanhee says again, and then Juyeon remembers why Chanhee is here and stills, a warm stone landing in his chest. 

Chanhee finally turns, puts a hand on Juyeon's shoulder and then runs the back of his knuckles down Juyeon's chest. Juyeon sucks in a breath, rising into the touch. Chanhee kisses Juyeon bluntly, and Juyeon is shocked into motion, his hands going absolutely everywhere, not at all sure what to do. When Chanhee pulls back Juyeon just leans forward and kisses him again, one hand on Chanhee's shoulder and the other at his neck. 

Chanhee pulls back again, and Juyeon says, “Yeah?” and Chanhee says, “Yeah,” back, teasing. Chanhee pushes Juyeon's shoulder then, and it’s like Chanhee already has his mouth at Juyeon's throat, bearing him down until he's flat on his back, helpless. 

Chanhee has a hand spread under the arc of Juyeon's ribs, right across the unprotected centre of him. He says, “Do you want to keep your shirt on?” and Juyeon shrugs, unsure. 

Juyeon has always thought Chanhee pretty, but in the shadows of the bunk Chanhee smiles, and his face goes from flushed and glad to something else, fangs out, and Juyeon realises that the sharp edge with which Chanhee carves through the world isn’t even him unsheathed, not like now: here he has the precise truth honed in on Juyeon, revealed.

Juyeon doesn’t know how to handle him. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to; Chanhee's handling _Juyeon_ just fine. Chanhee is quick and purposeful, helping Juyeon kick his pants off, Juyeon's want throttling up at each touch. Chanhee's hands are sure on the clean line of Juyeon's thigh as Chanhee finds his chosen entry, his open palm sliding from Juyeon's hip down and inwards to a thin-skinned spot on his upper inner thigh. Both of them know the paths and courses blood takes inside a person, and here’s a vulnerability, femoral artery nearby. 

Chanhee breaks skin clean and sharply, definitively, and Juyeon's blood lurches towards him, makes Juyeon jerk up suddenly against Chanhee's mouth. When Juyeon’s other leg starts trembling Chanhee holds it down easily. Juyeon is pinioned underneath him, an exposed nerve surrendered and laid bare. The same high rolls through him as last time but with a different resonance, a breathless anticipation reverberating differently. A strange, insistent echo careens around in the dark behind Juyeon's eyes, finds its way down to where Chanhee is on him, and Juyeon swears Chanhee can taste it, surely, the want running through him, because Chanhee stops drinking from him, lets the blood well there untasted, and puts his hand down Juyeon's underpants instead.

It isn’t even odd. How could it be? Juyeon has already yielded himself, kept his fangs away, laid aside his weapon and let Chanhee take from him. It does, in fact, feel amazing, just like Juyeon thought it would, and Chanhee manages to jerk him off and drink from him at the same time, everything immediate and overwhelming. Afterwards Juyeon says, “Wow,” and Chanhee laughs, takes one of Juyeons hands and presses it to his own wound to stem the flow.

Chanhee straddles Juyeon and kisses him; Juyeon tastes his own blood, warm with his own heat and Chanhee’s tongue. Juyeon’s lips are buzzing and sluicing right through him is bliss. He rubs his face against Chanhee’s neck, not wanting to bite but wanting to take in the smell of him. Juyeon manages to roll the both of them even with how soft and fuzzy everything is feeling, pushes Chanhee’s shirt up, presses his face against his belly, gets his hands down Chanhee’s pants and hears the cut-off sound of approval Chanhee makes. 

Juyeon has to pause to really pull Chanhee’s pants down properly, and then Juyeon puts his mouth on him, testing. Juyeon starts slow because even through the joyous haze he knows that Chanhee is trusting Juyeon a lot here, for Juyeon's commitment and surety that his own fangs will not appear. Thankfully he is definite on that, his fangs at rest in a jaw-deep and instinctual way. Otherwise, though, Juyeon is mostly operating on the satisfaction of knowing what he wants, sureness making him bold, even if he’s happy to let Chanhee guide him, murmuring, “Yes, like that, and your hand, just—”, and then when Juyeon has found his way, “Fucking hell, your tongue, fuck, Juyeon. What the fuck,” which makes Juyeon hot and keen, pleased with himself.

Chanhee pulls Juyeon’s hair when he comes and then smooths his hand over it absentmindedly, soothing him even as he’s taking in great gasping breaths, the most undone Juyeon’s ever seen him. Chanhee is a man and a vampire, and Juyeon is holding his taste in his mouth, gleeful. Juyeon would quite like it if Chanhee held Juyeon at his neck and pushed his face back against the mess and told him to clean it up, but Chanhee won’t do that, so Juyeon commands it of himself anyway. This isn’t the same as drinking blood, but it’s still taking something of Chanhee’s for his own, a different heady flavour under his tongue, warm and rich down his spine, hooked in his belly.

Juyeon lays himself by Chanhee’s side, having to curl a little to fit; he shuffles sideways to make room and then takes one of Juyeon’s hands in his own. Chanhee smells lushly of sex, his cologne mingled with the luminous smell of the both of them, Juyeon's blood a humid undertone. Juyeon is glad the bed is small, makes it easy and inconspicuous for him to tuck his head closer to Chanhee’s shoulder. 

Juyeon does wish Changmin was here, though. Juyeon wonder if Chanhee also wishes that, so he says, “Is— did Changmin tell you to—” and then cuts himself off, sudden fear that he’s misstepped[11]. Chanhee’s hands are still holding Juyeon’s easily, thumb pressed to his palm. Juyeon is even more surprised than usual to see how slight and narrow Chanhee’s hands are against his own. 

“We had some conversations,” Chanhee says. “And we’ll probably have some more.” 

Juyeon nods; Chanhee can’t see it, but he’ll be able to feel it against his shoulder. Juyeon is sleepy and content, thinking of not much but simple curiosity as he says, “Do you think Changmin would let me blow him if you asked for me?”

Chanhee snorts and shakes Juyeon’s hand a little. “I don’t know anything about how Changmin makes decisions,” and then after a pause, “maybe. Probably. I don’t know.”

“Nice,” Juyeon says. His blood inside him is honeyed, made clear and bright and sweet by Chanhee, and Juyeon dozes off like that, the long line of Chanhee’s warmth beside him. 

  
***

They all go out for dinner after a long day at the acrobatics gym, a BBQ joint round the corner with the choreographer and stunt coaches too. Juyeon is still running through flips in his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the tape indicators on the carpet as he hurtles past. When you go into a tumble you’ve got to commit fully, total momentum, and then it’s got to come back to precision, the force of yourself finding the balance of the turn. It’s fun, and not easy, since there’s lots of torque and flexibility and control involved, but it’s natural: Juyeon is tall and strong and has good lines, a good sense for the flow of it. The flow sticks with him too, ghost impressions still trying to roll him over, making him clumsy, almost knocking his drink off the table.

Sunwoo catches Juyeon’s drink for him, though, and Chanhee claps for him, and Juyeon says, “thank you,” and tries to do a better job of keeping his limbs to himself. Changmin had been talking through all the things everyone had done well, the things everyone needed to improve on, but now he’s grinning at Juyeon too, saying, “and we’ll get Juyeon some table manners too.”

“He’s polite!” Chanhee says, offended on Juyeon’s behalf, which makes everyone laugh. Today Juyeon spent a lot of his rest time watching everyone else do their formation work, Chanhee standing straight-backed and strong as he helped Eric turn through his flip. 

Chanhee dishes out the meat on the grill, waves his hand to tell Sunwoo to pour Juyeon more soju. Then he turns to Changmin and says, “You know, Juyeon asked if you’ve bitten me,” his voice low although not particularly secretive either; so many other conversations are happening that there isn’t really much point.

Changmin’s eyebrows go up, mouth pursed and still chewing. “When was this?” he asks. He’s bright-eyed, watching Juyeon closely, doesn’t look away as Chanhee shrugs and says, “Last week.”

“After, then,” Changmin says to Juyeon. Juyeon’s face feels very hot and he’s grinning. 

“Yeah,” Juyeon says. 

“He just blurted it out,” Chanhee continues, sitting up straight, wide-eyed. “Like, ‘Chanhee, have you ever— ’” he says, in what Juyeon guesses is an imitation of his own voice, serious and intent. Under the table Juyeon scuffs his foot against Chanhee’s — he’d prod Chanhee in the leg except that he’s wearing bone-pale trousers and Juyeon doesn’t want to stain them. Chanhee jerks a little, breaks character and falls back laughing. Changmin looks at Juyeon, so Juyeon nudges his foot too, and then Changmin nudges Juyeon back and catches Sunwoo’s ankle by accident and things devolve pretty quickly from there.

The group is mostly half-asleep once dinner is done. Sometimes long practices will have them all wired, pinging off each other with manic energy; the stunt work is too draining for that, wipes them all out without fail. It was a good day today, adrenalin joy all used up and the only-slightly-shaky relief of another session without injuries. They’re all pretty careful, take it slow when it comes to learning new things, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t gut lurches, moments where they can all tell how bad it could’ve gone. Even when you’ve rebalanced and found your footing your body is still plunged right into that emergency, arms pinwheeling onwards in your imagination, trying to save you from what you’ve already escaped. That’s how they know when they’re properly ready, when they can go out and perform it without thought, without fear: after their bodies have felt the worst that can happen and snatched themselves back from it, delivered themselves and each other safely to solid ground untouched by those shadows of possibility that they all know too well. 

***

Leather pants are difficult to perform in because of the way they stick against the floors, no matter if they're real leather or plastic. Despite this challenge, Juyeon is still very pleased by the wardrobe for this comeback, especially the very shiny, very tight pants with the fringed top, and also the shirt with his arms out. He likes all of it, really, and it’s a shame there aren’t any in-person audiences. The more this comeback unfolds the more difficult it is for Juyeon to remain unaware of his own emerging importance, the focus that is coming to centre on him[12]. It’s a responsibility he takes seriously, even as he feels the swell of greedy eagerness to show off. 

The first performances have Juyeon ecstatic, breathless; everyone is unused to the shock of happiness that comes from putting on a good show without the pressure of competition. Not that the stakes are low, but it’s an easier satisfaction to feel. Back at the dorms Kevin and Chanhee are friends again, or at least on the way to being so, and it’s simple to move amongst everyone, to talk through possible improvements with Sangyeon, share a smoothie with Jacob, play Xbox with Eric and lose abominably, get teased by Jaehyun for something that Juyeon probably deserves. 

Juyeon is innocent of many things — unknowing and oblivious and comfortably so. He is glad of this trait of his, because it gives him curiosity and excitement and joy, and more patience and fortitude for the grim, difficult parts of the job than he’d otherwise possess. It’s something he wants to preserve, but he is still glad for his failures, those sharp, clear breaks of innocence when he has learnt what he has and what he is lacking, and what he wants in its place. He has learnt that the suffering wasn’t the hunger that was given to him, but rather the treacherous stretch of blindly surviving without knowing what it was that he really sought.

Juyeon enjoys being caught between Chanhee and Changmin’s rhyming actions, occupying the interstices of their conversations and touch. Not that Juyeon is always there — he remains as independent as he ever was, but he can drift back towards them with the easy knowledge that they will make space for him on arrival, which is a very nice expectation to be able to have. 

This is what Juyeon is thinking about after tonight’s performance, trying to get his pants off in the narrow crowded space of the group’s booth. Changmin is already changed, taking off make-up, and Chanhee is behind him pulling off jewellery, rummaging in his bag and trying to talk to Changmin over his shoulder in the mirror. Juyeon can’t hear what they’re talking about because Eric is telling Haknyeon a story about one of the groups he ran into the back corridors, but he knows that Changmin is listening from the tilt of his shoulders, the ever so slight turn towards Chanhee. Chanhee is uncharacteristically dishevelled, his jacket half-off one shoulder, and Juyeon likes the look of that — he could reach out and right it, he supposes, but they both look good like this, an image he likes to see and doesn't want to disturb. 

Changmin wipes his eyes again, then suddenly Juyeon is making eye-contact in the mirror; he smiles without thinking and looks down, folding his pleather pants over their coat hanger and pulling on his sweatpants. Juyeon sees Chanhee turning, following Changmin’s look, and then Chanhee is leaning over to tug on Juyeon’s shirt sleeve. 

“Come here,” Chanhee says. 

Juyeon instinctively looks sideways, but no-one’s there to comment. Sunwoo is busy doing something with Jaehyun and one of the cam-corders in the mirror next to Changmin, Jacob is flicking through his phone and talking to Kevin. When Juyeon looks back he catches at Changmin’s reflection again. Changmin is watching Juyeon curiously, actively, and Juyeon feels the slack lines of want going taut between the three of them. Juyeon does not know what exactly is tangled amongst them but he knows he has more than enough want for whatever it will be, more than enough for two.

“Your jacket,” Juyeon says, and touches the collar. Chanhee shrugs and shakes it loose even further, and Juyeon follows his lead, takes the jacket off his arms and finds the coat hanger, puts it in its rightful place amongst everyone else’s stage outfits. 

“Home soon,” Juyeon says. 

Changmin turns and says, “Hungry?”

And Juyeon says, “Yes.”

* * *

**FOOTNOTES:**

**1** There is, of course, a thriving ecosystem of matchmaking services and rapid delivery from cafés and other suppliers, but most of these apps prefer to exercise discretion in public and forgo the brand recognition.[return to text]

 **2** There are guidelines regarding blood components, appropriate ratios and blend allowances, but there is currently no regulatory body enforcing said guidelines.[return to text]

 **3** Considering the criticism levelled at them here, the group shall remain nameless.[return to text]

 **4** The potential medicinal, cosmetic and recreational uses of vampire blood for vampire and non-vampire consumers alike is a hotly debated topic, relying mostly on anecdotal and apocryphal evidence.[return to text]

 **5** Link to said GQ photoshoot available on request.[return to text]

 **6** Although Juyeon would be the first to admit that there is some fluidity when it comes to these things.[return to text]

 **7** Research regarding vampirism is multi-pronged and varied, with much disagreement regarding potential origins of vampirism and the productiveness of even asking such a question in the first place.[return to text]

 **8** People had, in fact, offered, both the biting and the sleeping with boys, but Juyeon isn’t one to pick up on subtleties that he doesn’t expect to see.[return to text]

 **9** Phantom Thread (2017), dir. Paul Thomas Anderson.[return to text]

 **10** Sunwoo’s complete lack of subtlety managing a rare defeat of Juyeon’s usually ironclad credulity.[return to text]

 **11** Proving that Chanhee has certainly had a drastic effect on Juyeon, considering such caution rarely makes an appearance in Juyeon's psychic landscape. [return to text]

 **12** Juyeon's meteoric rise in the attention of the creative staff is not solely due to his new vampiric glow, but it has been noticed, that's for sure.[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! As always, feedback, concrit etc appreciated, whether it be about worldbuilding, characterisation, formatting (footnotes!! wow!!!) or what-have-you. Speaking of footnotes, I used [this guide to make mine.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579026/chapters/10429149)


End file.
